


His Fertile Soil

by valda



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Crack, Hux in a farmer outfit, I told you it was ridiculous, M/M, Oviposition, Peter Rabbit AU - except with adults having sex, Ren in a bunny suit, Seriously this is absolutely ridiculous, The Easter Bunny, also I don't think Snoke will be a major character? but he's mentioned so, also there is an orange condom, if you still want to read this - godspeed, why did this have to happen to me and all of you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: The fateful meeting of Farmer McGregor (Armitage Hux, a transplant to this unnamed rural town from New York City) and the Easter Bunny.





	1. Farmer McGregor Finds a Treat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kylostahp (hawkeward)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkeward/gifts).



> First I received [an anon about Kylo being half-bunny](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/159007262513/personally-i-cant-wait-for-the-au-crossover-fics), and I was appalled. Then I was chatting with kylostahp, and her idea of Kylo Ren in a bunny suit fucking Hux with a carrot came up. Somehow, I started writing the following disaster _in the messaging window_. Then I cleaned it up a bit and [posted it](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/159212586703/his-fertile-soil) because stahp isn't the only one who should have to suffer~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's been foolin' around on Farmer McGregor's land! He won't stand for it.

The rumors said if you went ’round back of McGregor’s barn you’d get a treat. Word had spread pretty quickly, but it was some time before Farmer McGregor heard about it. He was a busy man, kept to himself, and it was only when he sighted Kes Dameron’s boy scrambling out from behind the woodshed, hanging onto the waistband of his jeans for dear life and—dear god, was he limping?—that he became suspicious.

After that he started noticing more clues: abandoned wrappers for—candy, maybe? They were flat wrappers, maybe for lozenges…or wait, McGregor had seen this before. He pulled out his wallet and pushed his fingers into the unused sleeve in the back, where his father had hidden something “for emergencies”. It had to be ten years old, now, but as he pulled it out he saw that he was right, it looked exactly the same. So these were not candy wrappers, he realized grimly. They were condom wrappers.

Someone was getting up to mischief on his land! McGregor wouldn’t stand for it. The Dameron boy was the obvious place to start.

McGregor pounded on the door till Kes opened it. “Need to speak with yer boy,” he said.

“Will you stop referring to me as ‘the Dameron boy’?” Poe replied in a yell from down the hall. “I’m only two years younger than you.”

“I reckon I’ll keep callin’ you boy so long as y'act like a damn child,” McGregor drawled. “Recognize this?” And he held up one of the condom wrappers he’d found.

“Um, no,” Poe said, “but I know who would.” He quickly ushered McGregor away from his father. “It’s Kylo Ren,” he whispered.

“That lunatic, just moved into Jim Snoke’s place?”

“The very same.”

McGregor frowned. He didn’t know much about Ren other than the fact that he kept odd hours, didn’t seem to work, and had a habit of yelling at the good people of town for no apparent reason. There were rumors at first that he’d destroyed some property, too, but those had died down quickly.

“So he’s my trespasser?” McGregor asked, and Poe nodded. “Sure y'ain’t just passin’ the blame on?”

“I’m not,” Poe insisted. “He’s the one who started it all. He’s the weird one.”

“Well,” McGregor said, “a man has needs. Jus’ don’t see why he has to take care of them on my property.” Poe was giving him an odd look, but McGregor ignored it. “Where can I find him?”

“He has a usual place, in the alcove behind your barn." Poe glanced around furtively. "Please don’t tell my dad about this.”

McGregor clapped him on the shoulder. “Like I said. A man has needs. Just stay off my land.”

His spirits were much higher as he climbed into his truck and headed back to his farm. He found himself whistling a tune as he pulled up the long driveway and parked by the house. Ren probably wasn’t behind the barn _now_ , he reasoned, but it couldn’t hurt to check just in case. He pocketed his keys and strolled around back.

“Ah!” came a high-pitched voice, suddenly and loudly. McGregor stopped in his tracks. “Ow!” came the same voice. “I don’t—I don’t like that.” There was a long, heavy sigh, and then a deep voice replied, “Fine. You can go.” McGregor stood there frozen as a 20-something kid darted out from behind the barn and practically sprinted toward the fence. Doph Mitaka, McGregor thought it was. The new schoolteacher. He didn’t need to be getting in trouble like this.

Tightening his hands into fists, McGregor marched around the corner to the back of the barn. “What in tarnation you doin’ back here, Ren?” he demanded.

Ren was—well, he did not look the way he normally looked in town, that was for sure. He was wearing some sort of…rabbit costume. It covered his body, from giant bunny feet all the way up to a hoodie with huge floppy ears.

His hands were hidden beneath large paws, but McGregor could see that they weren’t completely covered; the paws were like long sleeves that came down over the top of his hands, leaving his fingers free. McGregor could see this because Ren was doing something rather odd with his hands. He was sorting eggs in an Easter basket.

At McGregor’s approach, Ren let the egg he was holding fall into the basket, gasping in a soft breath. His nose twitched, as if he were a real rabbit, and the whiskers he’d somehow affixed to his nose twitched too.

“This…ain’t quite what I was expectin,’” McGregor murmured.

“I’m the Easter Bunny,” Ren said, straightening, raising his chin and gazing at McGregor as if daring him to contradict the statement. “I’m here to give treats.”

“Treats,” McGregor repeated. “Those?” He gestured toward the eggs.

“Yeah,” Ren said. “I have so many. I want to share them.”

“And…what do people _do_ with your…treats?” McGregor didn’t know why he wasn’t just telling Ren to get off his property. But there was something about the way he stood there in his bunny suit, unabashed, that was, quite frankly, endearing.

“I lay them inside,” Ren said. “Deep inside, where they feel good. I’ll lay as many as you want.”

McGregor took a step back. “That weren’t no request,” he said, but he found himself staring at the eggs. “What—what do they feel like?”

Ren smiled and extended the basket. “Touch one.”

McGregor reached out a trembling hand. At the last second he almost withdrew, and then, swallowing, he let his fingertips press against a pink egg. It was soft, rubbery almost, but with a hard center. McGregor took it in his hand, squeezed it.

“How do you like it?” Ren—the Easter Bunny—asked.

“It’s…it’s lovely,” McGregor said in wonderment. “It feels so nice.”

“I can make it feel even nicer for you,” said the bunny.

McGregor swallowed again. Somehow, he knew what he should do. He undid the clasps of his jean overalls, letting the straps slide back over his shoulders, and eased the pants down his hips. “That’s right,” the Easter Bunny said encouragingly. “It’s the perfect place to lay my eggs.”

There was a bale of hay in the alcove that shouldn’t be there, and now McGregor knew why. He tugged his underwear down and bent over the bale.

“Comfortable?” the bunny asked.

“It’s a bit rough,” McGregor admitted, “but nothin’ I ain’t accustomed to.”

A soft brush against his bare ass told McGregor that the Easter Bunny was grazing the fabric of one of his paws over his skin. He trembled a little. “How do you…lay them?” he asked.

“First I get you ready. Have to build a nest for the eggs. A warm, wet, pink nest.”

McGregor was about to speak again but whatever he was going to say came out in a squeak instead as slick, cool fingers suddenly slid down between his ass cheeks. “Oh,” he said, and then the Easter Bunny was pushing into his hole.

“Good?” asked the Easter Bunny.

“Shit yeah,” McGregor said, and he attempted to spread his legs wider, reaching back to pull open his cheeks.

“Good,” said the Easter Bunny.

McGregor pressed back against the finger as it slid into him, and sighed as it pulled back out. Over and over, until McGregor felt looser, and then the bunny added another finger, and McGregor groaned. “So good,” he said quickly, reassuringly. The Easter Bunny patted his ass in reply.

A two-finger stretch was all that was required to lay the Easter Bunny’s eggs. Soon McGregor felt the ovoid shape pushing against his sensitive rim, the rubbery material bending around the hard center. He shuddered, threw his head back, and demanded, “Lay your egg inside me, Ren.” The Easter Bunny obliged, shoving the egg past McGregor’s pucker and up inside him.

It felt so good, stopping him up, pressing against his walls, but it wasn’t enough.

“More,” McGregor rasped. “I need more.”

The Easter Bunny was ready for the demand. Another egg soon joined the first, and then a third, then a fourth. McGregor’s legs were shaking, and he had to let go of his ass cheeks to clutch at the bale of hay lest he lose his balance as egg after egg was shoved into his ass. “Yes, fuck, god, Happy Easter to _me_ ,” McGregor moaned.

“To properly lay them deep inside you,” the Easter Bunny grunted, “I need to use my carrot.” McGregor looked questioningly over his shoulder and found that the bunny had opened the Velcro fly of his suit and was rolling an orange condom over a very impressive cock.

McGregor sucked in a breath. “You’ve got to plant your carrot,” he said. “Plant it deep in my fertile soil.”

The rabbit gripped McGregor’s hips then, and his carrot was at McGregor’s entrance, and then it was entering him, stretching him far more than the eggs had. It burned, it _hurt_ , but it felt so _good_ , like the euphoria of watching new life bloom. Yes—the Easter Bunny’s eggs and carrot were just like the crops that flourished under McGregor’s watchful eye and careful hand. Now the Easter Bunny was tending to _him_ —he was the land, he was being farmed.

…or, more precisely, he was being plowed.

“Yes!” McGregor found himself yelling. “Yes, yes, yes, plow me so good, so hard!”

And plow him the Easter Bunny did, for longer than McGregor would have imagined possible, until he was reduced to a quivering mess on the hay bale. And then, finally, the Easter Bunny whispered in his ear, “It’s time for you to bloom,” and reached around to glide his paw over McGregor’s cock—and McGregor came instantly, painting the hay bale with his seed.

The Easter Bunny humped into him a few more times, little bunny hops that pushed his carrot deep into McGregor’s body against the clutch of eggs, and then he was blossoming as well, collapsing over McGregor’s back, panting hot breath against McGregor’s jaw and neck.

“Damned if that ain’t the best fuck I’ve ever had,” McGregor huffed woozily, leaning his cheek into the tickle of the rabbit’s whiskers.

The Easter Bunny was quiet. McGregor turned his head, pulled back a bit to look into Ren’s face. He looked suddenly shy.

“What’s the matter?” McGregor asked gently. “Y’ look like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs.”

The Easter Bunny bit his lip. "Me too,“ the rabbit blurted finally. "I mean. That was. The best.” His eyes turned downward, hiding beneath lowered lashes. “This. All of this. Was because of you.”

McGregor cocked his head to one side. “Quit goin’ round yer ass to git to yer elbow,” he demanded, butting the rabbit’s cheek with his nose.

“I. I didn’t want any of…them. The others. Just…you.”

McGregor blinked, and blinked again, then laughed. “Why all the piddlin’?”

“Thought you’d say no.” The Easter Bunny was blushing now. “Thought if it couldn’t be you, it could at least be close to you.”

McGregor shifted his hips backward against the Easter Bunny’s sensitive cock. “Well. You were wrong, weren'tcha?”

The rabbit looked up shyly at this, and McGregor leaned in to kiss his pretty red mouth.


	2. Everything (Not) in Its Proper Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farmer McGregor has a visitor from the city. Or rather, Armitage Hux does. It's his birthday, and his friend has prepared him a gift.
> 
> Unfortunately, it doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of this chapter was originally posted to Tumblr [here](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/159301495533/farmer-hux-getting-a-giant-carrot-cake-for-his); I've made minor edits to that part and then added the rest of the story. HAPPY REVENGE OF THE FIFTH.

“McGregor isn’t even your real name.”

Hux rolled his eyes. “‘Hux’ doesn’t sound farmer enough,” he said, completely dropping the horrid Southern accent he used in town, because no one local was here to be scandalized by the fact that he was not, in fact, from around here.

Phasma took a long drag of her cigar, sighing out thick, bluish smoke. “This whole thing is absurd. You’re just…not a farmer. You’ve got too much of your father in you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Hux frowned into his brandy. “This is important to me, Phas. It’s a new life. Something completely different.”

“Not completely. I mean, Brendol was a rancher.”

“Shut up.” Hux drained his glass, which probably wasn’t the best idea, and plunked it down on the table with more force than he meant to. “This is a new start for me. I’ll not have you question my methods.”

“God forbid anyone ever question Armitage Hux.” Phasma smirked.

“Shut up,” Hux said again.

“Anyway,” Phasma said conversationally, “I got you a birthday present.”

“Phas. You shouldn’t have.”

“You’re right,” Phasma said, “but I couldn’t help myself. You’re really gonna like it.”

She left the sitting room, and Hux leaned back in his armchair, crossing his legs primly at the knee. It was some time before his best friend from another life reemerged, and when she did, she was shoving an enormous cart into the room.

“What the hell,” Hux murmured, rising to his feet. Atop the cart was the largest cake he had ever seen, long, rectangular, and covered in what appeared to be cream cheese frosting. He couldn’t see the top of it until he was standing, and then he realized that it was decorated with an enormous orange carrot, artfully rendered in piped frosting.

Hux felt his face going pink.

“I have it on good authority,” Phasma said, “that you like having carrot in you.”

At this, Hux spluttered, but no actual words came out.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy,” Phasma said. She gave Hux a wink. “I’ll be at my hotel. Got an early flight back to New York tomorrow. Have a good night, birthday boy.”

Did she truly expect him to eat this entire cake by himself? By the time Hux was able to form that thought, she was gone.

Hux crossed his arms and stared at the cake. Maybe he could bury it in the yard or something. He’d deal with it tomorrow, it was getting late…

A loud creaking sound broke him out of his confused thoughts. The top of the cake was moving. Jerking upward. Bouncing the carrot in ways Hux absolutely did NOT find lurid. He stared, transfixed, as the top of the cake exploded outward and up hopped—

Ren. It was Ren, resplendent in his full-body bunny suit, floppy ears bouncing, whiskers twitching, an egg in each hand.

“Surprise,” Ren said in a low voice. “Happy birthday, Farmer McGregor.”

Hux shuddered, licked his lips.

“Come into my warren,” the rabbit said. He shifted the egg from his right hand into his left, cupping both eggs in his broad palm, and extended his now-free hand.

Hux gazed for a moment at the way the fingers of Ren’s left hand curled around the eggs. Then he blinked, shook his head, and reached out to clasp Ren’s right hand. “Will you just…lift me all the way up there one-handed, then?”

Ren gave him a lopsided smile that set his whiskers askew. “Well,” he said, “I could. But there are steps on the cart.”

Cheeks heating once more, Hux tore his eyes away from his birthday present long enough to see that there was indeed a set of rungs. Gripping Ren’s hand, he levered himself up the metal ladder and swung his leg over the side of the cake.

“Your friend seems nice,” Ren said, raising a paw to brush his fingers along Hux’s cheek.

“She’s not,” Hux said. “I don’t even want to know how she found out about us. But let’s not talk about that right now.” He glanced down. “I’m not dressed for this.”

“There’s no need for you to be dressed at all.” Ren grinned. “But even Farmer McGregor dresses up on occasion. Maybe he dresses up for his birthday.”

“Maybe he does,” Hux conceded, keeping to himself the observation that he hardly considered a golf shirt and khakis  _dressing up_. McGregor would, wouldn’t he? And he was McGregor now.

“Well now, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning his cheek into the Easter Bunny’s paw, “are ya gonna be good for ol’ McGregor tonight?”

“Always,” the rabbit breathed, eyes going heavy-lidded. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

McGregor sucked at the Easter Bunny’s thumb. “Right now,” he said, “I want ter taste yer carrot.” He held Ren’s gaze as he lowered himself slowly to his knees, reaching up to open the flap that hid his treat away. “Do you have—?”

“There,” the rabbit breathed, nodding to the back of the cart. McGregor looked over his shoulder to find an array of useful items: firm but pliable Easter eggs in pastel colors, a bottle of lubricant, and several bright orange condoms.

(Now there was another thing he didn’t want to know about what Phasma knew: how much of the logistics she had handled personally.)

He left one hand lingering just at the costume’s flap and twisted in place to retrieve the supplies he needed with his other hand. Ren sucked in a breath as McGregor turned back, squeezing him. “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” McGregor drawled, and he pulled out Ren’s cock.

He’d seen it several times now, but it was always a pleasant surprise—big and thick and beautiful. And, right now, rock hard. McGregor gripped Ren’s shaft and pumped him a few times, pulling a strangled groan out of his rabbit. When he let go to open the condom wrapper, Ren whimpered.

“Poor, sweet Bunny,” McGregor said. “Needs to be touched.”

“Yes,” Ren whined, and McGregor rolled the condom up his length.

He didn’t need lube to blow Ren, of course, but the flap gave him access to other places. McGregor slicked up two fingers and reached his hand under Ren’s balls, back and up to his entrance, pressing gently against it as he took Ren’s carrot into his mouth.

Ren was quivering now; McGregor gazed up at him and watched his whiskers twitch. He couldn’t tell Ren how beautiful he was, not with his enormous cock in his throat, so he concentrated on driving his face down onto Ren’s dick, taking him deep again and again. As he swallowed him, he pushed slowly into Ren with one finger.

Ren’s legs were shaking; it would be difficult for him to hold himself up for much longer. McGregor liked watching his rabbit work for his pleasure, but he didn’t want him to fall, especially not in this cart. He pulled his mouth off Ren’s cock and slid his fingers away from Ren’s hole.

“F-Farmer McGregor,” the Easter Bunny huffed. He was gripping the sides of the cart for balance.

“I’ve got another hole that needs fillin’, Bunny,” McGregor said.

Ren nodded eagerly, and McGregor turned and slid his khakis and briefs down his legs. Ren’s paws came up to his hips, big and hot against his bare skin, strong fingers gripping tight. “You’d best get that hole ready before you plant anything,” McGregor warned.

He was expecting lubed fingers, so when the hard plastic of Ren’s bunny nose nudged against the top of his crack he jolted. Then Ren’s tongue was probing wetly against his hole, and he bit back on a moan. “I should’ve known my Bunny liked nibblin’,” he managed, spreading his legs wider and bending forward to brace himself against the sides of the cart.

Ren alternately lapped and flicked at him, the contrast between pressures sending tingles up his spine. Then that expert tongue breached his rim, and he couldn’t contain a yelp. Soon Ren was fucking him with his tongue, probing deeper and deeper, breath hot, nose rubbing into his crack. Ren’s tongue was divine, and Hux didn’t know why he hadn’t availed himself of it sooner. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed this particular pleasure. Thanisson hadn’t been into it at all…but then again, Thanisson had only really been into one thing, hadn’t he…

Hux squeezed his eyes shut.

“Stop,” he said, lurching forward and away from Ren’s mouth. When he turned around, Ren was still kneeling on the floor of the cart, gazing up at him with what seemed to be perplexed longing. He’d removed the bunny nose—that’s right, at some point Hux had stopped feeling the hard plastic—and the hood with the rabbit ears had fallen down, and he looked altogether too much like…well, not like what he was supposed to be.

Wordlessly, Hux moved closer and tugged the hood back into place. He watched the bunny ears bounce, not meeting Ren’s eyes.

“Mr. McGregor?” Ren said quietly. Hux glanced down and saw that Ren was looking at his now-flaccid cock. He turned away again and roughly pulled his trousers back up.

“That’s enough,” he said.

There was a shuffling sound behind him as Ren got to his feet. Hux willed the man not to touch him.

“Do–do you want my eggs instead?” Ren asked, sounding uncertain. Innocent. In that moment, Hux hated him.

“No,” he said, and he swung a leg over the side of the cart. “I don’t want anything.” He flailed around with his foot until it banged into the top rung of the ladder.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ren asked. He sounded petulant now, like a spoiled child who wasn’t getting his way.

“Just shut up,” Hux snapped, clanging down the ladder to the floor. “Go home. I’ll—I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look at Ren as he stalked to the stairs and stomped up to his room. He flung the door open and threw himself onto his bed and listened angrily for any sign of Ren leaving.

For some time there was no sound at all from the living room. Then the front door slammed, hard.

~

The next morning, Hux awoke to the sun slanting through the window right into his face and a text message from Phasma that read,  _So did you do it? Or did you go upstairs and change first?_

Scowling, he cleared their message history entirely.


	3. Locally Grown Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phasma won't quit—but neither will Hux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a combination of new writing and several ficlets that were originally posted to Tumblr under the [#his fertile soil tag](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/tagged/his-fertile-soil).

Phasma texted him a few more times that day.

_Client meeting was abysmal. They’re taking full advantage, the shits._

_You’re still not fired, you know._

_If you don’t come back, I’m taking your office._

He cleared their history every time a new message came in.

The morning was spent in the garden, picking things that looked like they were done and pulling up things that looked like weeds. By noon he was drenched with sweat; the inner band of his straw hat was soaked and the back and armpits of his plaid button-up were completely saturated. Mr. McGregor was a good farmer and a hard worker, and he should be proud of his accomplishments, but all he felt was tired and disgusted.

He lugged the vegetables he’d harvested into the house and, without ceremony, tipped them into the kitchen garbage. While his frozen dinner cooked in the oven, he took a long shower. After dressing in a fresh shirt and pair of overalls, eating his “Salisbury steak” and mashed potatoes, and deleting another message from Phasma— _You never answered me about the bunny sex_ —he headed back out to the yard. Surely there was something he could do in the barn, out of the heat of the sun.

Instead of going straight in, Hux found himself circling the structure, striding around to the hidden spot where he’d first found the Easter Bunny. There was nothing there today but a certain hay bale and—and a used condom, which, ugh. Turning up his nose, Hux did an about-face and marched back to the front of the barn.

Things were not the way they were supposed to be, the way Hux had arranged them. Phasma had come and overturned everything, but now Hux—McGregor—would put things right again.

He pulled out his phone and opened his text messages, switching from Phasma to Bunny.

_C’mere_ , he sent.

~  
  
“Will you just hold still?”   
  
“C-can’t, it’s so _good_ , I need _more—_ ”   
  
“I can’t _give_ you more unless you _hold still_.”   
  
The rabbit looked over his shoulder, ears flopping into his pitiful face. His big brown eyes gazed up at Hux through lowered lashes, and beneath his twitching whiskers, he was biting his lip.   
  
Hux adjusted his grip on the bunny’s hips—it was hard to keep the thick fabric of the costume from sliding against the hard, muscular body beneath it—and pushed forward gently, watching as his dick disappeared below the rabbit’s white puffball of a tail.   
  
“More, please, _please_.”   
  
“ _Uhn_ ,” Hux huffed out as he jerked his hips forward, driving himself in to the hilt.   
  
…or at least, that was what he’d _intended_ to do. But yet again the rabbit was squirming, wriggling, and letting out little grunting noises.   
  
“Damn it,” Hux said as his dick fell out _again_. “This just…isn’t working. At all.”   
  
Ren sighed and straightened, reaching back to close the Velcro butt flap of his bunny suit. “I’m sorry,” he said, brushing his paw shyly against his whiskers. “Am I—am I still Farmer McGregor’s favorite rabbit?”   
  
Hux, who had somehow forgotten his alter-ego _again_ , felt his withering cock leap back to life so hard it bounced off his stomach. There. That was right. McGregor gave Ren a lazy smile, put his hands on his hips, and said, “Well, I reckon so, but y’oughter remind me _why_.”   
  
Relief washed over Ren’s face, and he hopped quickly over to his Easter basket, digging through to find Farmer McGregor’s favorite eggs.

~

“You know, if you eat too many carrots, you’ll start to turn orange,” the Easter Bunny said as they lay sprawled out in the grass behind the barn, naked and spent. Ren raised a paw to Farmer McGregor’s cheek, then slid it up into his hair. “Look; it’s started already,” he added with a lopsided smile.  
  
McGregor gave the rabbit a shrewd look. “Are you saying you’d rather I stop eating carrots, Bunny?” he asked.   
  
“No,” Ren said, face flushing behind his whiskers, “I just—hope you’re only eating _my_ carrot.”   
  
McGregor stroked along Ren’s thick, velvety length and drawled, “I reckon this here’s the only carrot I need,” and then, with a rather violent bunny hop, Ren pinned him to the ground, kissing him hard.

~

Two weeks after Phasma’s unfortunate visit, things had gone mostly back to the way Hux wanted them. McGregor was doing quite well with his farm, and the Easter Bunny was laying plenty of eggs, and Phasma’s torrent of texts had slowed to a dribble, mostly consisting of demands like _Answer me, fuckhead_.

Then Phasma showed up again, leaping out of an Uber with a scowl on her face and wordlessly stomping past McGregor into the house. Not answering her was apparently not the way to get her to leave him alone.

(Of course it wasn’t. If Phasma ever stopped responding to him, he had to admit he’d track her down too.)

“What do I need to do to get you to drop this?” he asked her over dinner that night. (Country-fried steak this time, with mealy green beans and a lackluster apple dessert. He’d avoid this particular frozen dinner in the future. For her part, Phasma had ordered in from the lone Mexican place downtown.)

“Uh, come back to work, idiot,” Phasma said around a bite of refried beans.

“Not happening,” Hux informed her.

“You’ve been out here in the middle of nowhere for nearly six months, Armitage. That’s a pretty long sabbatical for a guy who’s kind of integral to the operation of the company.”

“Replace me. I’m not coming back.”

Phasma gave him an unimpressed look. “Of course you are. We’re in this together.”

“Phas.” Hux put down his fork. “I’m done. This is what I’m doing now. You can accept that, or you can go.”

She looked unconvinced as she rolled the rest of her carnitas into her last tortilla, but she said nothing more.

~

Perhaps implying that Phasma could stay if she didn’t mention going back to the city again had been a mistake.

“Look,” Hux whispered harshly, “you’ve taken altogether _too_ great an interest in this; it’s got to stop.”   
  
“But he’s waiting for you,” Phasma purred in a low voice. “Nibbling your lettuce.”   
  
Left eye twitching, Hux glared at her—but all too soon he was crumpling beneath that knowing smirk. Hitching up the straps of his overalls with a fervently muttered “Damn it,” Hux—McGregor, now—stalked out the kitchen door toward the garden, chased by muffled peals of laughter.   
  
“Gol-dern _rabbit_ ,” Farmer McGregor called loudly as he strode down a row of beans, headed for the lettuce. “Gettin’ into mah greens _again_.”   
  
There was a rustling sound, and then the Easter Bunny raised his head, long ears flopping, a large lettuce leaf hanging from his mouth beneath his twitching bunny whiskers.   
  
“You eat mah lettuce,” McGregor growled, “and I eat _you_ ,” and without further warning, he ripped open the Velcro at the back of the bunny costume and buried his face in the rabbit’s ass, tongue stabbing in for a taste.   
  
Ren let out a remarkably un-rabbit-like squeal that Phasma probably heard from the house.

~

Thankfully, Phasma soon tired of life on the McGregor farm.

“I don’t know how you’re not bored out of your mind,” she said. “I mean, you’ve got your Bunny, but he’s not here _nearly_ as much as I assumed he’d be.”

“Ren has a job,” Hux informed her blandly.

“Sure,” Phasma said, eyeballing Hux as if to say _So do you, asshole_.

“Lovely to see you,” Hux deflected. He pulled Phasma into a brief, one-armed embrace, which she mirrored almost exactly, and then they let go and she folded herself into the tiny backseat of her Uber.

“Take care, Armitage,” Phasma said, and as she gazed at him through the open car door he thought he saw the worst possible expression on her face. He blinked and it was gone, but for that one brief moment, she’d looked...sorry for him.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Better than fine. This is a good life.”

Phasma said nothing. Hux closed the car door for her, and then the Uber was carrying her away, off to the regional airport and back to a life Hux couldn’t—wouldn’t—return to.


	4. "Normalcy"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hux fights to recapture the feeling of the past five months, before Phasma's visit. But something else is new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is cobbled together from ficlets originally posted to Tumblr.

“I've got you now, rabbit!”   
  
McGregor leaped forward in triumph, catching the Easter Bunny around the waist and tackling him down to the soft spring sod.   
  
Ren giggled, squirming, and fought to roll over; McGregor let him, maintaining his position on top so that he was straddling the bunny, one knee on either side of the suit. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Ren strained toward McGregor for a kiss.   
  
“Impertinent rabbit,” McGregor said fondly, “I’ll show you what happens when you invade my garden.” Ren grinned, wrapped his muscular arms around McGregor, and slid a big hand down into McGregor’s overalls, seeking out the place where he most loved to bury his carrot.

McGregor sighed, back arching as his bunny’s expert fingers groped between his ass cheeks. He slid the left strap of his overalls off his shoulder and ground his hardening cock against Ren’s.

Ren’s paw slid forward into the front of McGregor’s overalls, grazing the head of his cock. “Is that a parsnip?” The rabbit gazed up at Farmer McGregor, eyes wide and adoring, whiskers twitching with curiosity. He was being awfully good now, only wiggling a little.   
  
McGregor offered him an indulgent smile. “Well, I don’t know, Bunny,” he drawled. “How ’bout you give it a little nibble and find out?” He climbed off Ren’s hips and settled himself against the broad trunk of a nearby oak tree.

Ren bounded up onto all fours and rabbit-hopped between McGregor’s legs. “Like this?” he asked, undoing McGregor’s fly and leaning in.

His bunny had such a sweet mouth. McGregor’s head lolled back, rapping soundly against the tree trunk, but the pain wasn’t nearly enough to distract from the waves of pleasure rolling through him with every swipe of Ren’s tongue, every slide of his plush lips, every swallow.

It was over all too soon. 

Gazing through half-lidded eyes at Ren’s flushed, spit-covered, and deservedly self-satisfied face, McGregor smiled. “You’re just like the goose that laid the golden egg,” he said.   
  
The Easter Bunny bounced up to nuzzle against Farmer McGregor’s chest. “I’ll lay all the eggs you want,” he said softly. “I’ll fill you up.”   
  
McGregor had meant to tease—but at the rabbit’s open, shameless declaration, at the adoring way he was rubbing himself against McGregor, the self-styled farmer couldn’t suppress a full-body shudder.

“I'll make you think all your Easters have come at once,” Ren promised.   
  
McGregor didn’t know what this was, didn’t know why his stomach was as twisted as a hay bale, but he leaned down to press a kiss against the hood of the bunny suit and said, “Good.”

~   
  
Sweat-damp hair clung to McGregor’s forehead and temples and the back of his neck. His breath was coming harder, and his skin tingled, and he could barely focus on the smiling face above him as he hugged his knees to his chest and focused hard on relaxing.   
  
“Such a good bunny,” he managed to huff between gasps of air, and he closed his eyes as the next egg pressed insistently against him, lube-slick and rubbery. “I want them all, all of them, every single one.”   
  
The Easter Bunny tickled a paw up beneath McGregor’s thigh, and McGregor trembled, tears of overstimulation burning the corners of his eyes as the egg slid inside.

Everything was right again. Everything was as it should be.

~

McGregor was content. His days passed like molasses sliding out of a bottle, constant and even, slow and comfortable. It was now late spring, and a violent storm was forecast for the evening, so McGregor hurried to finish the day’s farm work early.

He’d barely managed to get his farming implements stowed in the barn and himself safely inside the house when the winds whipped up and suddenly rain was lashing against the windows. “Whew,” he said, swiping his forearm over his forehead, and then he slumped onto the couch and loaded up Netflix. There was an interesting documentary series Hux wanted to watch, and he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to indulge.

The frozen dinner came later, at its appointed time, and after tidying up the kitchen Hux climbed the stairs to tidy himself up, like clockwork. He strolled into the master bathroom, traded his overalls and white tee for a long, striped nightgown, brushed his teeth, and washed his face. Then he reentered the bedroom, and there the normalcy ended.

Hux blinked, and blinked again. He glanced down at his nightgown—yes, it was something McGregor would wear.

“All righ’,” he muttered.

One dark and stormy night, Farmer McGregor found his bunny burrowed deep in a pile of blankets on the bed, shivering.

Rabbits were timid creatures, he mused as he approached. Pulling back the blanket a bit, he asked, “You been out in that? Or are ya jest skeered?”

A brilliant flash washed the bedroom in white, and a split second later a thunderous crash rattled the windows. Wordlessly, the Easter Bunny pawed at him, and McGregor gave in with a mock-beleaguered sigh, crawling under the covers to join him.

~

The next morning dawned bright and clear, as though the previous night’s storm had never happened. It had been strange to awaken next to Ren, strange to have such a large body taking up so much of his bed. Hux had gazed at Ren’s tousled black hair and found that he didn’t particularly mind.

“What does that do?” Ren said now, from the direction of Hux’s desk.

Hux glanced over from the closet. “That’s nothing,” he said briskly, stepping into his overalls and, at the same time, his Farmer McGregor persona. “Jest some damn nonsense some fool done thunk up what was s’posed to fix everythin’, but blew it all to hell instead.”   
  
He reached out to tug the hood of Ren’s bunny costume up over his dark hair, then slid his hand down to Ren’s cheek and gently turned his face away from the computer screen, away from where the word  _ Starkiller  _ blazed like a condemnation. “I reckon there’s somethin’ better you could be lookin’ at, Bunny,” he said.   
  
Ren paused for a moment, and Hux—McGregor—felt his stomach drop…but then a lazy smile crept across the Easter Bunny’s face, and his whiskers twitched, and he said, “Let me see where I get to lay my eggs tonight.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Amazing artwork #1](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/166658737988/pangolinpirate-a-gift-for-cosleia-for-her) by [pangolinpirate](https://pangolinpirate.tumblr.com/) and an anonymous commissioner (thank you!) and [amazing artwork #2](http://cosleia.tumblr.com/post/168237179363/guroxgoddess-hands-down-probably-the-best) by [carro](http://goddess-in-green.tumblr.com/).


End file.
